“What are you doing? Not going?”

Meiling asked when I lingered at the edge of the training field.

“I’m curious—how they’ll teach the basics of melee combat.”

“I’m curious too,” Seo Yui said, stepping up on my left.

“M-Me too…” Lumina whispered, slipping nervously to my right.

Meiling, now pushed out of place, made a face and grudgingly moved beside Lumina.

“Alright. Those I call, step forward. Ucheon’s Bella Ball, Maria Morais. Dai’s Takanashi Mayu. And all four from Magicka.”

As Abel read the names, the chosen ones shuffled out. They were all magic users, or those known to be weak at close combat.

“Here.”

He handed each a wooden sword. Level 1, Normal grade.

Then, with a swipe of his tablet, robots emerged—equal in number—each a shield-bearing tank type.

“For the next hour, the seven of you will attack the robot in front of you. No powers, no skills. The robots will block, dodge, and sometimes counter with their shields.”

At that, Jen raised his hand.

“Question!”

“What is it?”

“If we manage to beat a robot, do we get to rest?”

Abel’s grin widened. “Of course.”

The moment he said it, a few students’ faces brightened with relief.

I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Why are you laughing?” Meiling shot me a look.

“Because it’s impossible.”

Overturning a level gap with tactics wasn’t impossible. The four of us had beaten Level 84 Persilla before even hitting Level 30.

But that took special conditions.

The weapons Abel gave us earlier were Level 20 Normals—enough to hurt a Level 30 monster if used well.

These kids? They’d been given Level 1 wooden swords. Max attack power: two. Even with thousands of swings, they wouldn’t scratch a robot’s armor or shield.

“And the rest of you, over here,” Abel said, motioning to those not called earlier.

Ucheon’s Rio and Ha Yugeun. Dai’s Jang Taeil, Poff Yen, and George Hong.

All competent melee fighters.

“You five will watch and point out what needs improvement. Teaching others will help you learn as well. And don’t go easy on them just because they’re from another academy. Alright—begin.”

At Abel’s signal, the seven gripped their wooden swords awkwardly, squaring off against the robots.

Soon the training field rang with alternating shouts and screams.

True to Abel’s warning, the tanks shoved anyone who swung too wide or too sloppy, their shields knocking kids flat.

“Swinging harder doesn’t mean hitting better—you’re leaving openings!”

“Mayu, hold that grip wrong and you’ll cut yourself instead!”

“Rio! Am I doing this right?”

“No, lower your stance, then drive in—”

“Guhhhk!”

“…Idiot. Didn’t even let me finish.”

And so, battered and corrected, the students repeated swing after swing. Slowly, awkward motions grew steadier, sharper.

So this is what happens to teams that fail. Extra training, stripped down to fundamentals.

In the game, this part was skipped. Seeing it in person scratched an itch I hadn’t even known I had.

“What the—teacher isn’t doing a thing,” Meiling muttered.

I looked at Abel.

He was standing there, hands behind his back, smiling from ear to ear. And each time a student got smacked by a shield, his grin only deepened.

Watching the struggling trainees on the feed, Oh Sungcheon rose from his seat.

“Then, I’ll take my leave.”

“Ah, me too…”

“And myself as well…”

One after another, the businessmen and corporate envoys excused themselves. Guild representatives followed soon after.

By unwritten HAUT custom, investors were expected to personally witness the first combat drill. After that, attendance was optional. For those too busy, recordings would be sent.

Soon only the HAUT committee, Zeek, Ahn Hyung-gi, and an elderly man with snow-white hair and beard remained.

“President Porter, aren’t you returning?” asked Ahn, head of Crystal Academy.

Wynton Porter tore his gaze from the hologram—currently showing Gwangcheon squad watching the remedial training—and looked back with a smile.

“No. I came all the way from London. I’ll see everything with my own eyes.”

“I see. I’ll stay as well, since my daughter is among them.”

“Understandable.” Porter nodded.

“The next class is magic combat training,” Zeek noted, glancing at the schedule at the bottom of the feed.

“Magicka will be out for blood,” Ahn murmured. His eyes lingered on the four Magicka students struggling just to keep up with the tank robots.

Having confirmed what the remedial training entailed, I led my squad to a bench near the dorms for a break.

“Martial God and Crystal aren’t around,” Seo Yui observed.

“Probably at the main building’s training hall,” I said, remembering last night when Martial God’s squad had immediately run laps during free time.

“Yein, should we train too?” Lumina asked cautiously, sitting beside Meiling.

“No. We rest,” I said, leaning back.

“There’ll be harder drills ahead. Better to take what rest we can now.”

“…Alright.”

If training raised our stats significantly, I’d be dragging them to the hall already. But that wasn’t how this world worked.

But in Latessai, training only gave the smallest of stat bonuses.

It was always better to grind out even one more level than to waste time on drills.

And we had already broken past Level 50.

So we could afford to relax—without guilt.

Who would’ve thought HAUT would feel lazier than vacation training…? Guess I over-prepared.

This too was because the timeline of events had twisted. If things had unfolded exactly as in the game, I wouldn’t have felt pressured to level up so frantically.

At 10 o’clock, Abel returned with the students who had been forced into remedial training.

The moment I saw Bella’s face, I nearly burst out laughing.

She looked utterly wrecked—drenched in sweat, her whole body limp and sagging, like she’d just come back from some infernal torture session.

By contrast, the Magicka students, though exhausted, had a different fire in their eyes.

Magic combat training is next, I recalled.

Clearly, they’d resolved not to lose to anyone this time.

And yeah… fighting Magicka in magic drills is never easy.

Especially for Martial God. They were practically guaranteed last place.

“Alright. Then let’s reconvene at 10:15 in front of the dorm entrance. Spread the word to anyone who isn’t here,” Abel said before wandering off somewhere.

10:30 A.M.

Abel led us behind the main building.

There, in a wide clearing, strange contraptions stood on either side—like oversized baseball pitching machines.

“As you saw on the schedule, today’s class is magic combat training,” Abel announced.

“Now, when we say magic, don’t think of cartoons. No flashy transformations, no wish-granting, no long-winded chants that summon spirits. So then—who can define what magic is, in our terms?”

The words had barely left his mouth when a hand shot up, clearly waiting for the moment.

“Rune Maya. Let’s hear it.”

“Magic refers to skills with casting time that scale with ki aptitude and magic attack power.”

“Correct. One point to Magicka. Nicely put. In truth, the magic we use has no romance or dreams in it at all.”

Abel sighed softly, as if still clinging to some childhood fantasy of wizardry.

“But lacking dreams doesn’t mean magic lacks uniqueness. So—who can explain how magic differs from melee skills?”

Again, a hand rose from Magicka’s side the moment he finished. Their eyes burned with determination.

“Yoon Horim. Speak.”

“Magic skills generally have higher damage than melee skills. But unlike instant-cast melee abilities, they require casting time, and if that casting is interrupted the skill fails. Many spells also carry elemental attributes—lightning, fire, ice—making them especially effective at exploiting monster weaknesses.”

“As expected from Magicka Academy. Two points.”

In an instant, Magicka had racked up three points.

But they didn’t look pleased—they glared at Abel with a hunger that said, Give us harder questions. Bigger rewards.

“Alright then. One last quiz. This one’s worth three points.”

The atmosphere sharpened. Not only Magicka, but Dai, Ucheon, even Crystal perked up.

Only Martial God’s squad remained impassive, lips sealed.

“Magic attack power can be boosted by staves and wands. What is the advantage of each?”

Before Abel had even finished, I raised my hand.

Every Magicka student turned to glare at me.

“Oho, quick one. Yein Nam.”

“A wand shortens casting time, letting spells fire off faster. A staff boosts magic attack more, so each cast hits harder.”

“Exactly. Three points to Gwangcheon.”

Perfect.

Magicka’s students certainly had deep knowledge.

But I knew exactly what Abel would ask, word for word.

When it came to quizzes, losing wasn’t even on the table.

Of course, I couldn’t keep acing everything or suspicion would build. I’d have to start “conceding” a few.

“As we covered earlier in melee training, even those with low stamina aptitude must still study melee skills. But in magic, the context is different. If your ki aptitude is extremely low, casting spells is pointless—you burn MP for pitiful damage. Wasteful. Yet all of you still need this training. Why? Simple. Knowledge of magic lets everyone understand and anticipate each other’s behavior in battle. That understanding enables true synergy. And the reverse is just as important.”

Naturally.

Without knowing your ally’s strengths, weaknesses, and tactics, coordination was impossible.

“Now, enough theory. Onto practice. Squad leaders, step forward and collect weapons. Everyone slot your skill gems. The only skill allowed is Mana Bolt.”

What we received was a Level 5, Normal-grade wand.

“Each of you will take turns firing Mana Bolts at the target.”

The Magicka students blinked in surprise.

“…Target practice? That’s it?”

“Jen…!”

“Yowch!”

Rune pinched Jen’s hand hard enough to make him yelp.

Abel didn’t rebuke him. He just smiled faintly, tapped his tablet—

FWOOOSH!!

A loud noise ripped the air.

A fist-sized orb shot skyward, so fast it blurred into a streak before vanishing.

“That’s your target.”

“What!? With Mana Bolt!? That’s impossible!” Jen cried.

“Mana Bolt has no homing function!”

“I know.” Abel’s grin widened.

“So then… who wants to go first?”

For a long moment, silence hung over the field.

Then, only one hand went up.

It wasn’t mine.

“Excellent. Chen Meiling—step forward.”

Meiling strode out, wand in hand, without hesitation.

(End of Chapter)

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